


Sandalwood and Citrus

by Fire_Sign, Sarahtoo



Series: Phrack Fucking Fridays [15]
Category: Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries
Genre: F/M, pff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-06
Updated: 2017-10-06
Packaged: 2019-01-09 19:27:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,741
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12282894
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fire_Sign/pseuds/Fire_Sign, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sarahtoo/pseuds/Sarahtoo
Summary: Phryne in a hurry proves rather more stimulating than Jack had imagined.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So, I wrote this little thing for Phrack Fucking Friday only it... didn't get to the fucking. Thankfully for us all, Sarahtoo is an angel and remedied this little oversight with a second chapter, which she will post shortly.

Jack was halfway through reading a constable’s report when he heard her footsteps in the corridor; he glanced at his watch—a full fifteen minutes earlier than he’d expected. The door to his right clicked open and then shut, and Jack didn’t look up.

“Miss Fisher.”

“Jack.”

There was a whirl of activity as she came to sit on his desk. The hairs on the nape of his neck stood up, and after a moment he realised—was her usual silk and furs, but the scent was wrong. Another moment and he realised why.

“Were you in a rush this morning?” he asked mildly, still engrossed in his reading material.

“Mhmm, I had to speak with my client. ”

“Ahh,” he said. “And now you’re here to pump me for information?”

“Jack!” she scolded. “I’m here because it’s lunchtime and I thought you’d like to join me.”

He arched an eyebrow without looking up, hoping that the effect was more ‘aloof’ than ‘desperately holding on to the last shred of control’ and suspecting it was not.

“ _And_ because I’d like to see the autopsy report,” she conceded.

He pointed to another folder on the desk, realising too late that Phryne would need to lean across to reach it. Which left him with the very uncomfortable image of Phryne Fisher sprawled across his desk, smelling of his soap.

He swallowed hard and prayed he’d be able to extract himself from the situation with some dignity. But as he glanced up to find himself looking down her blouse, it was rather a lost cause.

She grinned innocently at him as she sat up.

“Do you have something to add, inspector?”

“I’m buying you different soap,” he said.

Her laughter was bright and genuinely surprised, and Jack found himself chuckling as well.

“I’m not sure I understand,” she said innocently, flicking open the autopsy report to peruse. “Is there something wrong with the one I used?”

“Only for my sanity.”

A little smile tugged on the corner of her lips, and Jack laid a hand on her thigh as he stood. He leant in towards her, catching another whiff of sandalwood and citrus, and kissed the skin right behind her ear; she gave a low hum of approval, setting aside the file.

“Christ, Phryne… when you smell like this…”

“All my lovely perfumes, and it’s a plain soap that undoes you?”

“ _You_ undo me,” he growled, “but this isn’t helping. All I can think about is you in my bed, in my bath, in my arms.”

“Sounds… difficult.”

“Absolutely terrible.”

She turned her head slightly, so they were face to face, and fluttered her eyelashes artfully.

“There is a solution,” she said softly, reaching up to tug on his tie. “If we were to head to my place for lunch…”

“You could apply perfume before I expire?” he supplied, knowing full well that was not her intention.

Her eyes raked over him.

“I was thinking more along the lines of a bath,” she said sweetly. “I bet you’d smell divinely with a bit of lavender.”

He’d never grabbed his hat and coat faster in his life.


	2. Chapter 2

“I’ll drive, Jack,” Phryne said as they headed out the front door of the station.

“I’m going to get lunch, Collins. Be back in an hour.” Jack was pleased by how normal his voice sounded; he was happy for the concealing length of his coat, as he’d come rather embarrassingly to attention. His hand on Phryne’s back, he ushered her swiftly out the station door.

“I’ll drive, Miss Fisher,” he growled in her ear. He wouldn’t be able to keep his hands off of her unless he had something to occupy them.

“Of course, inspector,” she said meekly, but he could see the devilish glint in her eyes.

“And please,” he said, holding the car door for her, “do attempt to keep your hands to yourself. I’d hate to crash before finding out whether lavender suits me.”

Her smirk as he shut the door made no promises, but he rounded the car anyway. He was willing to risk it.

As they drove, their attempts at light conversation tapered off into a charged silence. Phryne behaved herself, for the most part; he found that he enjoyed the weight of her hand on his knee, and the small circles she made with her fingers against the fabric of his trousers. But within minutes it became apparent that he’d made a serious misstep by insisting on driving. The open top of Phryne’s Hispano-Suiza would have allowed her intoxicating scent to dissipate; the closed roof of his police-issue vehicle had no such safeguard.

He’d become accustomed to the desire that he always felt in her proximity, to the point that he anticipated it; the heightened awareness actually made him think more clearly. This was different—more. His arousal, which had stepped up so innocently in his office, was fast becoming painful. To the point that he wasn’t certain he’d be able to hide it when they moved from the car into the house. 

Phryne, of course, had noticed his dilemma. “Jack,” she drawled, the hand on his knee sliding upward slightly, “perhaps you could pull around into the driveway, just this once?” 

He glanced over at her, and whatever she saw in his eyes made her lick her lips. “It’s only that the drive is shady and cool, and the fence makes it rather… secluded.” As she spoke, her hand inched higher, and he dropped one of his from the steering wheel to grasp it and hold it in place. “I could, perhaps, assist you with your… situation, before we try to go into the house?” 

She wriggled her pinky finger out from under his hand and stretched it to stroke lightly against the crease where his thigh met his groin; not insignificantly, her fingernail scraped softly against the base of his erection. Jack sucked in a breath through clenched teeth.

“Not much farther now,” he managed.

“If I had known that using your toiletries would have this effect on you, darling,” she purred, scooting closer on the seat; her soft breast pressed into his bicep as that pinky swept back and forth across his aching flesh, “I would have used them sooner.”

With a soft kiss to his jaw, Phryne laid her other hand lightly over his erection where it strained against his trousers. Jack groaned.

“Miss Fisher, _please_.” Swallowing heavily, he made the turn into the alleyway behind her house.

“No need to beg, Jack,” the crisp click of consonants in his ear sent a shudder down his spine, and Phryne gave him a gentle squeeze. “I will take care of you in just… one… moment.”

With a curse, Jack spun the wheel to pull into the short driveway outside her garage. The space was narrow, and flanked by a tall fence on either side. Large shade trees blotted out the sky, making the car feel suddenly as if it was their own private getaway. Leaning forward to set the brake, Jack laid his forehead against the steering wheel for just a moment, trying to convince himself that he would be able to make the short walk through the fernery, across the kitchen, and up the stairs to her boudoir. Phryne’s hand on his cock assured him that he was mistaken.

“Sit back, Jack,” she whispered in his ear, and, helplessly, he obeyed, his hands remaining clasped around the wheel.

Jack watched as Phryne unfastened his trousers and drew his erection out. Her face was beautiful as she stroked him, her hands soft and sure against his hard, hot skin. 

“Poor Jack, you are suffering, aren’t you?” She whispered when he moaned. “Let me just…” Without another word, she slid down and wrapped her mouth around the head of his cock, her tongue warm and slippery.

“Oh, fuck!” The word blasted from Jack’s lips as Phryne’s mouth engulfed him; his hands on the steering wheel clenched, his knuckles whitening. In moments, he was on the edge of orgasm, the collision of sensation almost too much. The built-up scent of Phryne and the way the fragrance of his soap changed when it was on her skin, the heat and texture of her mouth, the realization that they were in public—however secluded they might seem to be—combined to hold him in a vise-like grip.

“Fuck, Phryne, I’m coming, I’m—” Snapping his mouth shut, Jack rolled his lips together to muffle his shout of pleasure as she pulled his cock in and rubbed the palm of her hand over his balls. The steering wheel creaked slightly as he fought to keep from thrusting up into her mouth while he came. The last thing he wanted to do was hurt her. 

Phryne held his glans inside her pursed lips, swallowing quickly to capture his essence. When his body calmed, she swirled her tongue around him one last time and rose up, her hand still wrapped around him. Jack watched, heavy-eyed, as she daintily wiped the corners of her mouth with her finger, sliding it inside to suck it clean. Her red lipstick still lined the outer edge of her lips, but he could see the pale pink of her natural lip color in the center of her mouth, and a glance downward showed smears of her trademark color now adorned his skin.

“When I asked you to lunch, I’d intended to feed _you_ ,” she murmured, her hand wrapped around his cock continuing to move languidly, a deliciously lazy drag along already-sensitized nerves.

“I have a particular feast in mind, I’ll admit, Miss Fisher,” he replied, his eyes on hers.

“And we might still have time for that bath, don’t you think, Jack?”

“Definitely.” He slid a hand around the back of her neck, bringing her mouth to his in a kiss that made promises he fully intended to keep. “Perhaps Mr. Butler can make me a couple of sandwiches to take back to the office with me.”

Phryne gave his cock one last tug, then without taking her eyes from his, she tucked him away and fastened his trousers.

“No time to waste, then, Jack,” she said. “We have a full schedule.”

“We’d best get a wriggle on then, Miss Fisher.”

With a squeeze to his knee, Phryne whirled to dart out of the car. “See you upstairs, Jack!”

Laughing, Jack pursued her, loving the fact that she was always two steps ahead. 


End file.
